


And You Come Undone

by Katraa



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Conventions, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Burn, Texting, brats being brats, cosplay au, mizuki cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You recognize the name, the more you stand around.  Sly Blue.  That's the undefeated Rhymer, the legend, the feared.   Of course, you think, he'd be trolling around a tiny gaming gathering like this.  So, you stow away the information for some other time, and you continue clicking your tongue at the poor graphics of some lame company who is trying to win the hearts of those who already owe their souls to Toue Inc.   You blend in pretty well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You Come Undone

**Author's Note:**

> JUST A SILLY IDEA I HAD.  
> HAD TO...TAKE MY MIND OFF SUCH SADNESS.
> 
> rest in peace to a wonderful person.  
> know that she loves you with all her heart.  
> you made her happy.

The first time you see him, it's at a tiny convention. It's just some small gathering of nerds and Rhymers and the people putting it on are showing off the new Rhyme features, as well as the new handheld games from other companies that aren't Toue Inc. You show up and aren't too interested - you already know everything they're going to say and you've already pirated the demo. You're good at illegal things like that - it's part of your job. What _does_ manage to interest you is the blue-haired guy leaning against the Rhyme table, smirking from ear to ear. He has a name tag on it, and if you squint, you can make out the words, ` Sly Blue` written in very pretty handwriting. You wonder if one of the blonde girls out front wrote it for him. It makes sense.

You recognize the name, the more you stand around. Sly Blue. That's the undefeated Rhymer, the legend, the feared. Of course, you think, he'd be trolling around a tiny gaming gathering like this. So, you stow away the information for some other time, and you continue clicking your tongue at the poor graphics of some lame company who is trying to win the hearts of those who already owe their souls to Toue Inc. You blend in pretty well.

The last thing you notice is how gold his eyes are, and how they seem to reflect all the sorrows and despairs of the world.

* * *

The second time you run into him, it's at the actual Midorjiama Gaming Expo. This time, it's at Platinum Jail and the best of the best have shown up from all over Japan. Your team-mates urged you to come, even though you didn't really see a point. You're busy running a team and getting information and you really don't have time to waste at these stupid things - you learned your lesson the last time. But somehow, through magic, you end up here. And even more magically, you end up in cosplay. One of your team-mates wanted you all to go as a cast of some popular anime you haven't bothered to follow. You know vaguely about it, through the internet and websites, but you've never sat down and watched it. You have enough money to buy an outfit on a whim and you're scrawny and pale enough to make it work. Apparently you look hot. You don't really think so.

And that's when you see him. He's nearby, dressed as one of the characters, too. You only know this because one of your team-mates has the exact same cosplay. Of course, this guy's looks homemade and not store-bought, which is cute in some weird way. You wouldn't have guessed, given his prickly disposition and vicious reputation. Then again, you wonder if anyone else besides you notice it's him, Sly Blue. The dead giveaway is the fact he can't hide those pretty gold eyes that remind you of the gold coins back come.

He waltzes up to you, full of haughty swagger. He stops in front of you, nose and chin upturned, gaze affixed on you. It's deadly.

"Yo," he says and his voice is deeper than you imagined. 

You don't respond. Instead, you cock your head to the side, watching as a few of your team-mates gather around. They're easily excited. Just like rabbits. You aptly named your team, you think.

"Hey. You're Miko, right?" he says, gesturing at your outfit and your blonde hair that's been styled into some sort of faux hawk. They said it looked good and that you were a natural - you aren't sure if you believe them. They're always trying to get on your good side.

"Yeah," you say, flatly, and he chuckles. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard. But then again, you've always been one for pain. "What about it?"

"You're my rival," the stranger chuckles and he leans up on his tip-toes, pretty gold eyes narrowed at you. "Wanna take a photo together or whatever? You're the best one I've seen here. It's quite impressive."

His words sound like purrs, like a cat, and your passiveness flickers. Your heart beats and you imagine how easily someone this dangerous could wreck you. You lick your bottom lip.

"A photo? That's kinda gay," you say, not meaning homosexual per say, but more so lame. Then again, you heard that these two characters are "shipped", so yeah, maybe you mean that gay, too. Fuck society.

"Tch. Just do it you brat."

Sly Blue wraps his arm around yours and spins your around. There's someone you don't know ready with a phone, camera likely at the ready. You sigh and you don't smile as the flash goes off. Instead, you're too busy dwelling on how he looks better with that pretty blue hair and not this stupid black wig. You don't voice that, though. You're spacing and you barely notice that he's swung his arms around your neck and is using you as a human stripper-pole.

"What--" you begin, deadpan, and you miss the moment he leans in dangerously close, lips almost touching yours.

"Just stay still so we don't actually touch, 'kay? We're gonna make hundreds off these photos," he chuckles and you can feel his breath on yours. It tickles your lips and tongue. "Just gimme your email and I'll send you--"

You've always been a tactile person despite your inability to feel, so you take the plunge and let your lips touch for a split second.

Sly Blue retracts, face hot, and his friend laughing his skinny ass off. Apparently that wasn't in the game plan.

"I said not to do it!" Sly scowls, nearly shouting, and his hands are fists at his sides. He fits the character pretty well. You aren't sure if he's acting. Probably not.

"You're blushing," you say and shrug. 

"No shit," Sly says, darkly, and turns on his heel. "Mizuki'll get your email. I'm outta here before I kick your ass."

You watch him leave. And you can't help but watch his ass as he walks away, his hips moving from side to side along to some unheard rhythm. It makes you lick your lips again and you feel warm, hot under the collar, and you shiver. You don't hear what this Mizuki guy says to you. Instead, you're already planning on how to meet Sly Blue again.

* * *

You start talking. He starts emailing you after he sends over some yen to compensate for the money he's made off the photo prints. You didn't think people could make money like that. It's intriguing. 

` wanna shoot some more photos sometime? the fans fucking love your ass. they want you so bad. `

You regard his messages with passiveness, because despite having a nice ass and a smart mouth, he isn't anything special. 

` i guess. it's getting boring ` you say back which is partially a lie. The photo-shoot at the convention wasn't boring at all. In fact, it made you feel pretty alive.

` oh, i'll make it unboring you friggin brat. so is it a deal? ;) `

` yeah` you respond, signing your name over to the Devil.

* * *

"So your name is Noiz," Sly Blue says as he fiddles with his wig, trying to style it back into the correct shape.

You're over his tiny-ass apartment and it's cramped and smells weird but you're here, because this is the fourth time you guys have gone to shoots together and Sly thought it was a good idea to get ready together. That, and he wanted to show you his studio and how he makes his cosplay and all that jazz. There's so much fabric and needles and thread and you wonder how he does it - you don't get it. 

For someone so dark he's got a really soft side.

"Noiz," Sly says again, frowning into the mirror at your reflection. "Stop spacing out."

"Tch…" You shake your head and head over, hands dropping down to his hips as you stand behind him. You have contacts in this time, making your sharp green eyes a pale blue. You remember Sly saying something about you being even more stereotypically German when you wear them. You have to agree.

"What are you doing?" Sly asks, hesitating in the middle of spiking up a tuft of hair. He wriggles his nose at your reflections.

"Think this would sell?" You ask, absently, as you look at his eyes in the mirror. You like how he never changes them despite his character having brown. You think the gold fits him - and his character - so much better.

"Think -- Oh. I don't fucking know, maybe." He ponders. "Maybe if we were shirtless and making out. That'd get thousands…"

"Really?" That'd be good, that'd help you out.

"I'm not suggesting it, you friggin' perv," Sly drawls and he elbows you away. "Finish your makeup so we can head out, yeah?"

"Whatever."

* * *

It's after your sixth shoot and you're sitting on the roof of the convention. He's taken off his wig and his pretty blue hair is flowing in the breeze, tangling and yet beautiful. You want to reach out and touch it but you don't. Instead, you rest your cheek against your knee, both hugged up close to your chest. And then lick your lips.

"What would it be like to fly?" Sly asks, randomly, and he spins his foot in tiny circles over the edge of the building.

"What?" you ask, because that's a preposterous question. You square your shoulders and wait for him to explain. He's always been this weird enigma to you.

"Dunno. I get bored and imagine what would happen if I fell off and took flight." He frowns. "I sit up on roofs sometimes, so yea."

It's oddly revealing and you think that you've suddenly grown closer to him without realizing it. This business relationship has spurred some weird pseudo-friendship and it's hard for you to swallow.

"What do you want? More money? Sex?" you ask, coldly, and Sly whips his head to the side to glare at you.

"The fuck is that all of a sudden?" he demands, voice venomous and you stiffen. You weren't expecting that.

"It's either that, or--"

"I don't want anything from you, you fucking nerd. We're taking pictures together at gay-ass nerd conventions, and if that's a problem, you better speak up now and stop wasting my time."

You've never been yelled at like this before, but you like it. You think that, just maybe, he values you as a person. And it makes you shudder. You look away, toying with your snakebite and swallow. Hard. It's all so baffling.

"Your name isn't Sly, isn't it?"

"The fuck kinda question is that, we were talking about-" Sly begins but you cut him off.

"Is it?"

"Why do you care?"

Why do you? "I don't."

"Then it's Sly."

You go quiet and you shut up and just watch the sunset with him on the roof, eating some sugary treats he bought earlier downstairs at the convention.

* * *

"You guys…"

Mizuki has the misfortune of doing a shoot with you two. He's been shoved on photo-duty and now he's suffering. Sly had the great idea of actually doing a scandalous shoot with you and it's doing a lot of bad, bad things to you. You haven't been messing around since you met the pretty blue-haired wonder and it's showing because you're stressed and anxious and you haven't gotten off in over a month now. 

And now, and now Sly is laying on the couch, shirt completely unbuttoned, jeans undone, all but falling off his hips, and he's gesturing for you to come over and take a seat. On his lap.

"C'mon, Noiz. Think of all the yen," he coos, voice low. "Or should I say Miko?"

You hesitate and then Mizuki chuckles, nervously and says, "Maybe a… video would sell better? LIke a cosplay video? I can leave the camera over here and--"

"Hm." Sly actually contemplates it and tosses his rather-nervous friend a look. Mizuki is usually so calm ad nice but he obviously doesn't want to be here. Maybe he can smell, can taste, can feel the suffocating unresolved sexual tension in the room.

"'kay," Sly finally says.

"What?" you ask, slowly, blinking. Had Sly just agreed to--

Mizuki gathers up his things, leaves, and then you're just standing near Sly, hands at your sides, with gel in your hair and a stiff costume and a stiffer dick. Thank god your pants are loose in the crotch because a hard-on right now would be poorly timed. Probably.

"Okay, he said it was recording," Sly says and gestures for you to come closer. "Come over here and pretend to make the hell out with me."

You swallow down a weird lump of nerves. You're used to this and yet… And yet when you head over, rolling your shoulders into a shrug, when you drop down and trap his lips with yours, when you tangle your hand in his godforsaken wig, you wish it was locks of blue instead.

And that's a problem.

* * *

"What's your name?"

You ask it as you watch Sly sew a jacket for a new costume he wants to try out. 

Sly looks over, stunned. You've been spending a lot of time here ever since that day Mizuki ditched you and let you two make out for half an hour on camera. To be fair, you made a lot of money off that one and you haven't spoken of it since. But you wonder. You wonder if Sly felt how turned on you were, how into it you were. It's hurting your head and yet you crave it so much. You want to feel alive.

"What?"

"What's your real name?"

"I told you, it's Sly."

"I care."

The way you say it, the way you nonchalantly spit it out makes Sly go wide-eyed. The usually bratty, haughty cosplayed who scares little boys and grown adult men all the same, stares at you like you're a ghost. He's oddly pale and he looks like a scared rabbit. You want to simultaneously laugh and at the same time hold him close and whisper that he'll be okay. You want him to be okay. You want to be okay, too. That's what it means to feel alive.

"It's Aoba," he says, gently, resigned.

You crack a tiny smile.

"Aoba, then."

"O-oi, it sounds weird with your accent, punk."

You feel happy, oddly happy, and you resume your web browsing as he buries his face into the jacket he's consumed with tailoring.

* * *

"Aoba?"

You're over his place for no reason this time. There's no convention, nothing to work on. No, you're just here for pizza and to watch bad movies. You're here because you've accepted that's what friendship is and you feel like you somehow belong here. You end up here a lot just because. Sly usually doesn't say anything about it.

"Aoba?"

Sly is asleep on the couch, curled up in a ball. It's the cutest thing you've seen in awhile. You think back to Sly telling you stories about his parents and how they'd used to tell him stories at night and brush his hair and you wonder why you weren't allowed that growing up. And you wonder how Aoba got as broken as you, with such warm parents.

"Aoba?" you ask a third time and it's around that time that he twitches, stretching in his sleep.

It's so cute and you can't resist walking over. You drop down to your knees, sitting beside the couch. You brush back his bangs as he sleeps. And then you whisper him a bedtime story about a small little rabbit.

* * *

When you show up at Aoba's place, a takeout pizza with you, you don't knock. You just head inside because you're used to it by now. Aoba said he was working on a new outfit and you came over to help and to finally watch the stupid anime you two are pretending to be from. But when you walk inside, you notice he's zoning out on his laptop. And…. and that's the video of you two making out from a month ago. He's staring at it, absentmindedly licking his lips, face warm.

You're overcome with a weird rush of protectiveness, of desire, of warmth, and you silently head over. By the time he notices you, he's trying to quickly close out of the window. He doesn't want you to see, apparently. That, and he doesn't want you to see the boner he's trying to conceal with his hand now.

But you just shove his laptop aside and shove him back against the couch and slam your lips together. And you put your hand through his hair and kiss him like you've wanted to for awhile now. It tastes good and he kisses back so hotly, so desperately, that it makes you come undone. You crawl into his lap and bite at his lips and lick at them. He whines and you give a tiny tug on his hair. His hips buck against yours in response and you both groan, moan, and he does it again, this time on purpose.

Somehow, you end up sucking him off. He moans and whines and begs you to wreck him. When he comes, when he curls his toes and tugs your hair and lifts his hips off the couch, panting, _Noiz, Noiz_ , over and over, you feel your heart leap. He tastes bitter but it's a good kind of bitter. It's like your life, and that's okay, because your life has lead you to this pretty blue guy.

After he comes, he ends up sucking you off, too, but he also finger bangs you and you've never quite felt like this before. He's good at making you feel. He's really good at it. You come so hard, so fast.

You end up spending the night, in Aoba's bed, cuddling. Spooning, you think it's called.

In the morning, his number is already in your phone and when you sneak a peak at his, he has yours with a tiny little heart next to it. When you go to take a shower, you notice he's hung up a tiny picture of the two of you together over his cosplay work station. You pause and then smile to yourself.

You think this is what dating is like.


End file.
